


Confessions of the Damned

by SilentMemento



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, No humans, guns and swords, sort of Black Lagoon like, sort of Shadow of Mordor like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 12:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17001261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentMemento/pseuds/SilentMemento
Summary: From the northern streets, to the deck of a ship with pirates, to the underling in a large company, all the way to the precipice of glory...witness the rise of Cabin Boy the Corphish as he makes his way to the top.





	Confessions of the Damned

**Chapter One: Boy, You Picked the Wrong Cabin**

 

“Don’t you move a fuckin’ muscle.”

 

The young Corphish stared fearfully at the barrel of a rifle pointed in his direction. A rather tall male Malamar aimed it between his eyes, smirking at the stowaway.

 

“Follow me nice and slow or the last thing you’ll ever see is my gun. Now move it, and don’t talk!”

 

The Corphish bit his shell to keep himself from crying and slunk up the stairs and out of the storage cabin with the giant medusa-haired squid from hell pressing the rifle against the back of his head. He squinted as the harsh tropical sun came into view, blinding him for a half-second. He knew that he was on the deck of a small ship. Judging by the waves, it was already out to sea, and it had stopped moving. The Malamar marched him over to another cabin door and knocked loudly.

 

“Hey, Ivory, you fat bitch! I caught myself a filthy rat! What do I do with it?”

 

A large female voice roared out, “Call me a fat bitch one more time, and I’ll...wait, what did you say, Otto?”

 

The Malamar growled underneath his breath and knocked the Corphish to the ground, prompting a muted squeak. “I caught a fuckin’ stowaway, all right?!”

 

“Then why didn’t you say so?”

 

“Because you didn’t ask,” Otto muttered as the door opened to reveal a blue walrus-like creature with shaggy white fur running down the back of her head.

 

“Well, well, well,” the Walrein growled, pulling out a pistol from its holster. She casually twirled the modified gun with her flipper. “Not only do you catch us a rat, but it’s a neo-statian rat.”

 

The Corphish shook with anger. “I-I-I’m not a n-neo-st-statian,” he stuttered.

 

“W-Well wh-why d-don’t I f-fuckin’ believe you?” Otto sneered mockingly before pressing the gun against his head again. “And interrupt me or my captain one more time, and I’ll blow your tiny brains out.”

 

The Corphish nodded dumbly, looking into the cold black eyes of the female Walrein. She gave him no sympathy. “What are you doing on our ship? Do you know who we are?”

 

“I don’t care who you are!” he cried out. “I wanted to get away from the North! I hate it there!” He was knocked to the ground again by Otto, and his head swam from the pain.

 

“Listen, kid, I don’t give a fuck how bad your life is or how bad the North is. We’ve done a hell of a lot worse than them, and if you didn’t understand that when you came onto our ship, you probably don’t deserve to live.”

 

“Otto,” Ivory growled. “We have to take a vote. That’s what we do for any major decision. That is the Damned Rebels’ way.” She took a deep breath. “Crew! Meet me outside of my cabin right now! That’s an order!”

 

A large avian creature with snow-white plumage - a Swanna - fluttered to Ivory’s side from nowhere, her elongated beak clicking in disapproval. Two large slug-like creatures, one pink and brown and the other green and blue, slithered away from what they were doing. Both of the Gastrodon were clearly exhausted.

 

“What the hell did you call us for, Ivory?” the Swanna asked, her black eyes looking down at the trembling Corphish. “Is it this thing? What’s it doing here?”

 

“Fuckin’ bitch stowed away on our ship, Cirrus,” the Malamar said, pressing his rifle down on the young lobster’s skull, forcing him to the ground. He looked at her meaningfully. “You know what we do to stowaways. We should waste this shit now and dump his fuckin’ carcass in the sea.”

 

“Without asking him why he stowed away?” the western Gastrodon said pointedly. “Look at him, and I mean _really_ look at him. He ain’t nothing more than a scared kid from the north streets, Otto, and you ain’t helping.”

 

“Fuckin’ Kyogre, Pacmon, he snuck onto our fuckin’ ship!” Otto snapped. “Don’t give me that fuckin’ sappy shit. I don’t want to hear it. This neo-statian pansy should be shot right now, and I’d be more than happy to do it. That’s my vote.”

 

“Rules are rules, Pacmon,” Cirrus said with a sigh. “I don’t want to have a child’s blood on my feathers either, but we don’t know where he’s from or who he represents. For all we know, he could be a spy. We know that Morawe loves to use child soldiers; what’s to say that Stroom wouldn’t do the same? My vote is for death. We can’t take any chances.”

 

“I’ve dealt drugs, sold guns, and done a whole lot of shit that I ain’t proud of, but I ain’t gonna have a kid’s blood on my soul,” Pacmon said, shaking his head. “He lives. That’s my vote.”

 

“Yeah, he can live,” the eastern Gastrodon said in a bored voice. “Pacmon and I can’t run this ship ourselves. We can teach him the ropes, and he’ll be a fine sailor in time.”

 

“Yeah, of course you’d take your buddy’s side, Biggs,” the Malamar sneered. “You Gastrodon are all softer than fuckin’ tomatoes. I could probably shoot you both and you’d pop like Drifloon.”

 

“It’s not about being soft, you idiot,” Biggs growled. “It’s about being smart. We don’t have enough mons to control this ship. Ivory is the captain and works out deals with contacts. Cirrus is second in command and has the helm. Pacmon and I fix all of the shit that goes wrong on this ship. You don’t do anything other than shoot every fucking thing, Otto. Let us teach this kid the ropes, and he could be a vital part of our crew. More vital than you, anyway.”

 

“In case you’re forgetting something, Biggs, he’s a Corphish,” Cirrus said while holding a snarling Otto back from the eastern Gastrodon. “A possible neo-statian spy. You know that the founding member of that whole fucked up party was a Crawdaunt. For all we know, he could be initiated by killing us.”

 

“He’s a kid, Cirrus!” Pacmon said angrily. “He’s just a terrified kid who ain’t got a clue who we are.”

 

“You don’t know that he doesn’t,” the Swanna said. “I’m not doing this to be cruel. I’m doing this for our safety. He has to die.”

 

“And if he doesn’t? Then you just murdered an innocent kid for no good reason.”

 

“Then there’s only one way to solve this.” All eyes turned to look at Ivory as she glanced down at the Corphish. “Otto, Cirrus, search the cabin where he was stowing away up and down. If there’s any hint of a weapon, you get the honors of killing him, Otto. If not...we call our benefactors to tell us what to do with him.”

 

“How do you even know that little shit was going to use his own weapon?” the Malamar asked incredulously. “What about ours? We’ve got plenty of them!”

 

“Keeping them under lock and key and using them is _your_ job! It’s the _only_ job you have on this fucking ship!” Ivory’s face had become quite pale, giving her a frightening appearance. “If he was going to use one of our weapons, then I would have you lashed and given a saltwater bath! Now search the fucking cabin before I go primal on your ass! Am - I - understood?!”

 

“Yes, Captain,” Otto said meekly, knowing that he had pushed her too far. He and Cirrus quickly made their way to the cabin.

 

“Now, you two...weren’t you fixing something?” the Walrein asked.

 

“Yes?” Pacmon said.

 

“Then why - in the name of Kyogre’s Locker - aren’t you back there fixing it already?!” she screamed, spittle flying into their faces. The Gastrodon duo slithered away as fast as they could.

 

The young Corphish almost wanted to do the same, tears in his eyes, but as soon as he tried to slink away, he heard a pistol click. “Not you,” Ivory said. “You stay here. We’re going to have a little chat, you and I. I _will_ be able to tell if you’re lying, and if you are, I’ll shoot you anyway. I’ll allow you to talk so long as you answer my questions honestly. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes.” The Corphish started to sob. “I’m sorry for sneaking aboard your ship, Captain-ma’am, I just wanted to get away from the streets…”

 

“I’ll ask questions before you talk,” she said, waiting for him to stop. “Now, you were born into a Crawdaunt family, were you not?”

 

“Yes…” he mumbled.

 

“And those family members had neo-statian ties, am I correct?”

 

“Yes. All of them,” he said dully, fully expecting to be killed.

 

“And you wanted to get away from the insanity so much that you ran away from home, chose the northern streets over them, and stowed away on the first ship you saw?”

 

The Corphish stared at her in shock. “H-how did-”

 

“I know what it’s like to have an insane family,” the Walrein said coldly. “Cirrus knows as well, but she’s become too paranoid to see that in you. I know that they won’t find a single weapon because you probably had nothing on you at all. But you still ate our food, stole from us, stowed away on our ship. Biggs has a point in that if he and Pacmon can teach you, you can be a valuable part of the crew. You absolutely have to earn it, though, and I won’t give you another chance if you fail.”

 

“I’ll do anything you ask,” he said, nodding furiously.

 

“The first thing I ask is your name.”

 

“It’s the name of the founder. I’d rather not use it.”

 

“Very well.” Ivory closed her eyes in thought. “Your name is now Cabin Boy. It reminds you what you are, what you will be from now on. Your family may have given you a name they thought was grand; I will not. You owe me everything, and I don’t owe you a Kyogre-damned thing. Understood?”

 

“Yes, I do, Captain-ma’am,” Cabin Boy mumbled softly as Otto and Cirrus went back up to the top deck. The Swanna gave the Walrein a nuzzle that was reciprocated.

 

“What did you find, my old friend?” the captain asked.

 

“Nothing. He had absolutely nothing to his name. He stole food, but-”

 

“Then I’ll call our benefactors and see what they want to do with him.” She whipped out a cell phone and dialed a number. “Yeah, it’s Ivory. Can I speak to Galeel, please? It’s important. ...Yes, Galeel? It’s Ivory. We found a Corphish stowaway on board our ship. He stole food, and he was born into a neo-statian family, but he ran away from their home and chose the streets over them. Pacmon and Biggs want to make him a part of the crew. Cirrus and Otto want him dead. I wanted your confirmation before I did anything. ...Very well. I’ll see to it immediately.” She hung up and looked at Cabin Boy.

 

“Otto? Would you mind showing Cabin Boy to your quarters so that he can polish your trophies?”

 

“You’re not fuckin’ killing him?!” the Malamar screeched indignantly.

 

“No, she’s not,” Cirrus said. “Rules are rules. I follow Ivory’s decisions. Do you, Otto?”

 

Otto muttered a string of swears and grabbed Cabin Boy by his claw, dragging him downstairs and into a large cabin. There were many guns, a few swords, even a mace, but the thing that caught the young Corphish’s eyes were the trophies. Body parts from various sea monsters decorated the entire cabin, including a full set of Sharpedo fangs above a messy bed. A sponge and a bucket of polish were shoved into his claws.

 

“Here,” Otto snarled. “When I come back from checking all of the guns, and this room isn’t polished right, I’ll fuck you over until you’re raw and bloody. Got it, slave?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Otto, sir,” he mumbled before a blow from a tentacle sent him to the ground.

 

“No, you don’t get to call me by my name. It’s ‘Master’ to you, slave, and I want to hear it.”

 

“Yes, Master,” the Corphish said in a dull tone.

 

“Good.” The Malamar left the cabin and slammed the door shut.

 

Cabin Boy, remembering the harsh words, immediately started polishing everything in sight and didn’t stop until Otto came back, not knowing that he would be brutally beaten when the Malamar returned, unsatisfied with the work.


End file.
